


Dirty Dancing

by Annwyn



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Humour, M/M, PWP, Waymeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-11
Updated: 2010-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annwyn/pseuds/Annwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Dirty' doesn't really fit with these two. A PWP with lots of sap, sex and no redeeming qualities whatsoever. A bit of an indulgence, really.  Written for the <i>Waymeet</i> Summer Blockbuster Challenge, 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a laptop commercial Elijah made wherein he sat on a woman's lap and was pronounced the last word in entertainment.

The room drowsed in the warmth of a perfect California spring afternoon, silent save for a soft staccato clicking and an occasional muttered curse. Sunshine poured in through the open window and puddled on the polished hardwood floor, and the man hunched over the laptop wriggled his toes absently in the silky heat of it. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and stifled a yawn. It was too nice a day to work, but the numbers compelled him, dull though they were, and if he could get the business crap out of the way he'd have time. Time for what was really important to him.

So he worked until the branches of the old oak out front began to cast a delicate tracery of shadow and the marks on the screen started to blur, running together in a spiky Rorschach blot. Until the sticky whisper of bare feet stitched the silence.

"Time for a break, Sean." Clove-scented hands pulled him back against the slip-covered leather of the backrest, and he allowed himself to go with them, his eyelids drifting shut and his head lolling back in grateful irresponsibility. They slipped under his shirt to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders, cool fingertips like spots of brightness on his skin, and his breath puffed out in a contented sigh.

"Mmmmmmm... Feels so good..."

A hand slid up to stroke his cheek and he turned his head blindly and placed a kiss in the damp hollow of Elijah's palm before relaxing again into the soothing caress. His awareness expanded, freed of the numbing effects of prosaic statistics - and the world crept in. The faint rumble of weekend traffic in the distance, the clatter of a mower somewhere nearby, the bee-hum of the AC in the next room; one after the other, they reconnected him to reality, grounding him. Then a soft exhalation ruffled his hair and he drifted again, cut loose by the soap-fresh smell of the man behind him and the possessive certainty of the hands that wandered down his chest. They granted a connection more real than anything the world had to offer and a part of his body stirred and looked about with interest. He smiled to himself and gave it a mental pat. _Hang in there, boy._

"Hey." Elijah slipped his arms around Sean's neck and the back of the recliner dipped under his weight. Sean could feel the ridge of a warm cheekbone on the crown of his head and he snuggled into the hug, breathing deeply of Elijah, dizzy with just plain sharing his space.

"Hey, baby."

"Did you see the girls?"

"Yeah. They're doing great. And they gave me big, messy kisses to give to you." Sean paused thoughtfully. "They seemed quite comfortable with it, actually. The idea. Me kissing you, I mean."

"Don't worry about the birds and the bees, Sean. There's lots of time. Now - where are they?"

"Huh?"

"My kisses," Elijah replied patiently. "I want them now, please."

"Oh." Sean tipped his face up to meet expectant lips and they exchanged a lingering upside-down kiss, tongues uninvolved, almost - but not-quite chaste. Sean's tentative arousal quickened, coiling into a knot of gentle heat low in his belly, and a moan escaped him, a soft sound muffled in Elijah's mouth. He felt the shape of a smile and fingers tapping a light tattoo on his shoulder. Elijah wanted it slow, then. They had the rest of the afternoon, and no urgency about it. _Good. Perfect._

"Not quite what the girls had in mind," Elijah murmured when they broke apart, "But I like the spin you put on it."

"So? They wanted to say 'Love you, Unca Lijah' and I believe I obliged."

Elijah sighed, his breath threading through Sean's hair. "Fuck, Sean. They're growing up so fast, and I don't see enough of them. I wish..." His voice trailed off wistfully.

"Quit that," Sean frowned, wishing for a moment that he hadn’t said a word. "They know you'll be away on a job for a couple of weeks, and they’ll be over for the weekend when you get back. If I can wait, so can they." He made a dismissive gesture and tried for a change of subject.

"I saw that ad, by the way. The one where you're sitting on a lap that isn't mine?"

"Oh god," Elijah groaned. "Please don't tell me the girls saw it too?"

Sean gave a snort. "Try to keep them away when they hear your voice." He lifted a limp hand from where it rested on his chest and stroked it lightly.

"You're too modest by half, Elwood. We liked it. Although - if I'd known you were the last word in entertainment, we wouldn't have spent all that money fitting up the rec room." He made a face. "What a waste."

"Wanker," Elijah giggled. "She had the softest thighs. It was a nice change, actually."

"Wanker yourself," his partner returned mildly. "And you owe Aly one too", he added. "She was quite upset on my behalf, you know."

"What? Sean!" Elijah drew back in consternation, and Sean chuckled, laying a restraining hand on the arm curled around his neck.

"Gotcha!" he crowed triumphantly. Elijah growled and the arm tightened, effectively cutting off Sean's air. He grabbed Elijah in a headlock and they tussled gleefully before subsiding, eyes bright and hair more than a little mussed.

"You. Fucker."

"Sorry," Sean said contritely. "I couldn't help it. She insisted on sitting on my lap and singing me a song, though."

"Awwwww..." Elijah hugged him hard and then fell silent, his fingers toying aimlessly with the buttons of Sean’s shirt.

"I love your girls so much, Sean." The whispered words went straight to Sean's heart, and he was thankful that Elijah couldn't see his face. His eyelids prickled and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold back incipient tears.

"To hear Aly tell it, she considers herself your special girl, Lij. They're yours too; you know that."

"Yeah... I'm lucky Chris is willing to share."

There was no irony in the soft voice - just simple gratitude. And Sean could hear a smile in there too, and no resentment either. A huge upwelling of love for the remarkable, generous man whose life he shared filled his chest to bursting - a love not unmixed with sadness. _I’ll make it up to him somehow,_ he thought. _I’ll make him so happy he won’t miss having children of his own._

He disengaged himself gently from Elijah’s embrace and leaned forward to shut the laptop down and set it aside. Then he reached back to grab a wrist and pulled, hooking an arm around the slim waist as it became available and hauling Elijah over the arm of the chair and into his lap. They snuggled against each other, Elijah’s head burrowed into the curve of Sean’s neck and Sean’s arms tight around him, savoring the first rush of contact - the _IhaveyouandI’llneverneverletyougo_ feeling that they still hadn’t lost. For long minutes, the silence was filled with the sibilance of whispered endearments; then Sean eased Elijah around to face him, fussing until everything was arranged to his satisfaction and his lover’s knees were tucked comfortably into the corners of the extra-wide recliner.

“Sean?” Elijah eyed him quizzically, and Sean put on his best Sam-pout.

“Okay, Mister Entertainment-Comes-Alive-In-Your-Lap, now’s a chance to show your quality.”

Elijah’s face went blank as he tried to place the familiar words, and then light dawned and he gave a yelp of glee.

“Good ol’ Dave. I’m sure he’d appreciate the *heh* present context.”

“Well?” Sean demanded, a trace of impatience in his voice. He could swear he felt the tug of Elijah’s cock through air and denim, and all the tiny muscles under his skin tightened at the thought.

Elijah grinned down at Sean, his eyes alight with mischief - and shook his head.

_”No?”_ Sean gave a creditable imitation of a landed fish and Elijah giggled.

“You gotta turn me on first, Seanie,” the maddening young man astride his lap pointed out reasonably - and that irrational bit of Sean’s mind that still couldn’t understand why this gorgeous quicksilver creature loved him subsided in relief.

His pulse, already poised on the starting blocks, leaped and began to race with anticipation. He loved these little games they played. They were part of a courtship dance, he realized, a wild and woolly jig that wended through all the aspects of their lives. Elijah usually led and Sean followed, but Sean learned fast, and now he steered them into new steps more often than not. He knew he was going to like this new game very much indeed.

“Looks to me like you’re all powered up and ready,” Sean addressed the impertinent crotch nestled so cosily next to his, “But if you insist…”

“I do insist, yeah.”

“Lessee… I’ll have to raise your top, of course.” Sean’s eyes slid from amused to intent as he ran his hands under the hem of the white tee and up over the narrow ribcage to where dark aureoles smudged the thin fabric. Elijah hissed as sensitive knots of flesh rolled under the rough attention of Sean’s thumbs and his hips jerked forward helplessly, seeking, _finding._ Broad hands darted down to cup his ass and pull him in tight, and they ground into each other mindlessly, all thoughts of the game drowned in a morass of sensation. Finally Elijah took a deep breath, opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

“Ah… Sean. My top?

“Ow,” he said a moment later, his voice muffled as the offending t-shirt was yanked over his arms and discarded on the floor. “Careful with the merchandise.”

“I’m always careful,” Sean said, tracing his way back down over the creamy skin. “Makes ‘em last longer, dontcha know?”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t last otherwise?”

Sean smirked, “If the shoe fits, Doodle.”

Elijah lowered his chin and looked at him consideringly, the blue of his eyes glinting behind a dark fall of lashes. “Bastard. We’ll see who shoots first, shall we?”

Sean stared, mesmerized. Elijah wore his hair long these days, and it fell in soft tousled waves over his face, still slightly wet from the shower and devoid of the styling gel he liked so much. It curled over his ears and against the tender line of his neck and the late sunlight flooding in through the window behind him sparked against wispy tendrils and haloed his head in a golden haze.

Sean raised his hands and pushed trembling fingers through the silken strands, his palms cradling Elijah’s face. His thumb traced the elegant line of the upper lip, lingering against the cinnamon freckle at the corner of it.

“I think I know what this button does,” he husked before drawing Elijah down.

Their kiss was lazy and unhurried. It was _hello, how are you_; it was _mineminemine_, it was _youyouyou_. It was getting re-acquainted, no matter how many kisses came before. Then Elijah took over, and it acquired a certain ferocity; his fingers dug into Sean's arms, and his tongue plundered deep, searching out sweet crevices, caressing the root of Sean's tongue. The intimate intrusion of it shook Sean to the core; he moaned helplessly as Elijah's mouth worked its way around to his neck, nuzzling at the soft skin behind his ear, kissing - _biting_. His hands seemed independent of the rest of him. They creased Elijah’s flanks, kneading, pressing, leaving marks on the smooth skin. Then his fingers brushed against cool metal and scrabbled frantically, popping buttons and pushing damp cloth aside. He whimpered as heat rippled across his skin, and Elijah purred in satisfaction and pushed himself upright, eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen red and wet - as was the cock that emerged, bright-eyed and ready, from between the folds of his jeans.

Sean wrapped his hand around it, stroking the velvet skin and diving below to cup the warm weight of Elijah’s balls.

“A joystick,” he murmured. “How appropriate.”

In less than a minute, nothing remained between them but skin and sweat. Elijah leaned over the side, thumbed a lever, and the recliner reconfigured itself, the backrest going down with a solid thunk and the footrest swinging upward to balance the whole.

Even through the fog of arousal, Sean knew a moment of panic as the room tilted - a reflex born of all the times they had ended up on the floor in an ignominious heap - then reason reasserted itself. Not for nothing had they had the chair made to order - counterweighted, counterbalanced, oversized and stable. It was a stone bitch to move, but worth every pound.

Elijah kneeled up over Sean’s chest and leaned over the side again, groping for the concealed pocket in the slipcover. He came up with a towel and a tube and offered the latter to Sean.

“Enable me.”

Sean nodded mutely, ignorance of computerese notwithstanding, and fitted his hand around a silky hip, nudging Elijah toward him until his erection rested on Sean’s tongue. A deep breath, the taste of musk at the back of his throat and Elijah was fucking his mouth slowly, deliberately, shuddering with the effort of holding back. Sean coated his fingers and slipped them into the crease of Elijah’s ass, stroking the pucker hiding there, then he was through the tight ring of muscle and corkscrewing deep, probing... Ahhh... _There_.

Elijah threw his head back and cried out, tendons straining against the soft skin of his neck.

“Now, Sean, now!”

Sean licked his lips, tasting Elijah. He loved this moment - loved watching the beloved face above him tighten, eyes shut as Elijah concentrated, listening to something Sean couldn’t hear. Heat coursed over his skin in rapid waves as he waited _ohgodsotight_ and it was all he could do to hold his cock steady - to keep himself from slamming upward as Elijah engulfed him, inch by agonizing inch. Then it came - the slight tilt of hips away from him, and Elijah’s face went slack as Sean’s cock found the swell of his prostate, and all pain was swept away by pleasure.

_Sean…_ he whispered, and his hands clenched tight on the arms of their chair. Sean gathered them up, lacing their fingers together, and Elijah opened his eyes and smiled, and he began to move.

They were sweating freely now, their bodies slippery, salty drops flying, sparkling in the sunlight. Elijah rose, his hips circling around the fulcrum of Sean’s cock, and sank down, and Sean surged up to meet him.

_And they danced._

Elijah knew exactly how far he could go, how to rouse Sean to the edge, again and again. And how to pull him back for more. And then it was too much; neurons overloaded, firing in all directions.

They climaxed as one, competition disregarded, and the game forgotten.

“_Oh. My. God._ Lij,” Sean gasped as they lay together in a trembling symmetry of arms and legs. “You… are definitely...the very...best.”

“Huh. That was nothing. Remind me to offer you popcorn next time.”


End file.
